


a Blush so Deep

by livebynight



Series: You and Ivar [3]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Dom/sub, F/M, Menstrual Sex, Readers time of the month, Spanking, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight
Summary: Ivar won't take no for an answer.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blót - Simply put, blood sacrifice  
> Friðar - Peace
> 
>  
> 
> Definitely have to make some sort of dedication to ifinkufreaky for this one... Don't think I'd ever have this idea otherwise.

 

“You are only jealous your aim is not as good as mine.” Ivar boasted. He nocked an arrow to his bow and proved his mettle – landing the arrow dead center of the wood-fashioned target. Ubbe laughed and Ivar grinned, gesturing at his result. “See? Jealous.”

Hvitserk shook his head, disappointed at himself. His own arrow was a full three inches outside of Ivar’s.

“Okay, let’s go again, six out of seven this time.”

“Bull shit!” Ivar protested. “You are a loser – you must accept it.”

“No – you were lucky that time. We must go again.” Hvitserk was already nocking an arrow, ready for another round. Ubbe rolled his eyes, poured himself more mead. You could not help but to meet his expression. You had been in peace, flaying rabbits by your lonesome until the Ragnarsson’s decided to throw a wager.

Ivar was the best shoot. Everyone knew that. But cockiness ran through the genes and Hvitserk was not yet willing to lose whatever it was he bid on.

Hvitserk took aim, landing his arrow _slightly_ left of center. A better shot than his previous three-inch misfire. Ivar’s turn landed him yet another bullseye.

Back and forth they went. Ivar only missed the center once, but had one more to make. He nocked his bow and took aim, enduring Hvitserk’s shit talk. Even you wanted the game to end at this point. The egos of the young men were exhausting. Being on your moonblood erased all your patience for it. Your flaying had become sloppier as your tolerance grew thin.

“Stay quiet,” Ivar snapped.

“Those were not in the rules, brother. You are just afraid to lose to me.”

“Doubtable.”

“Do not fret, Ivar,” Hvitserk went on, “If I win, I will let you beg.”

Ivar laughed, drawing the arrow back. “I do not beg.”

“That is not as it seemed to me, the other night,” you chimed in.

Ubbe spat out his drink. Hvitserk looked at you in surprise, a delighted smirk grew on his face. Ivar had been made so distracted that his arrow misfired, missing the target completely.

Hvisterk cheered at it, screaming as he threw his arms in the air and ran circles around Ivar. You couldn’t help but laugh, even as Ivar turned to glare at you, face having turned bright red.

 

 

 

After finishing the day’s tasks, the last thing you expected was to find Ivar sitting atop your bed when you were finally ready to retire. You could not help but to sulk. Although you nearly always reveled in the sight of him, the physical pains that you endured for the day – on top of your chores – left you weary.

He was making a habit of this, evidently. Sneaking into your room at night just as he used to. But at least this time, he had it in himself to start a fire; the cabin was warm and the ache in your back thanked him for it.

“Hello, Ivar,” you murmured. You stripped off your fur, feeling even better without the chill of it, and strung it up to dry out. The boots were next to come off – and just as you bent over to set them aside, the throb of a cramp flared in your groin, strong enough to make you gasp. You braced yourself against the wall and rubbed your hand over your stomach, willing it to ease away.

“Are you not well?” Ivar asked curiously.

You turned to him, forcing a smile and shook your head. “Sore is all.”

Ivar peered at you. He seemed unconvinced but shrugged. He busied himself with his hair, rifling through its braids to pull them out, gave each section a ruffle as it fell apart. He had undressed as well, down to tunic and breeches, making himself comfortable among your pillows. Apparently fully intent on spending the night, you gathered. Now, you noticed his belongings spread out on the floor by the fire to dry.

“Come here,” he called nonchalantly, still focusing on his hair. He quickly finished as you approached him. Hardly a foot away and his hand snatched your wrist, pulling you to him faster. You nearly stumbled into him but his other arm steadied you, snaking around your waist. Giving your arm a tug, it seemed as if he was demanding a kiss, his eyes drifted to your mouth in search of it, but you protested.

A hand on his chest, you resisted his pull, making him pout. “Not tonight, Ivar.”

“Why?” He asked, seriously enough for you to have to resist chuckling at him. “What is the matter?”

Instantly, you felt your face flush. You never had to explain this to a man before; it was always handled in quiet on your own, learning from older women how to cope with the pains and mess. Ivar’s hands dropped from you, only making you feel more self-conscious, but you knew him well enough to know he would be persistent until getting an explanation. Especially after going through the trouble of coming all the way to your farm, intent on sharing your bed. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the floor.

“I am…” You started, teetering on your feet. “… It is the time of my moonblood.”

Ivar’s pout disappeared and his eyes dropped, looking elsewhere, only making the crimson in your cheeks turn a shade darker. “Oh.”

You half expected him to decide to leave; even took a step away from him to give him the space to. Instead, he shifted on your bed, readjusting to rest his back flush against the headboard. Even wiggled his hips to nestle further into the pillows. He held his hand out, gesturing to himself.

Your brows furrowed, unsure of what he meant.

“Well?”

“’Well’, what?”

He made a frustrated sound, rolling his eyes. “Get on my lap!”

“But -” Nervous laughter bubbled out of you. You shook your head at him. “Ivar, I just told you I am-”

“I heard you, woman.” Ivar responded slowly, getting impatient as if lecturing a child. “I do not care. Get on my lap.” You started to protest again, only stopping when he turned to glare at you, a sly grin playing at his lips. “Don’t make me say it again.”

With a huff, you did as told, climbing atop to straddle him. It felt awkward; the linen you normally constructed for underthings to control the flow was already uncomfortable – worsened by the day’s labor. Now, legs spread over Ivar, it was practically mortifying. But Ivar gave you no time to fret over it; his arms wound around you again, securing your torso against his so he could kiss you. His lips, you found, were always good distraction, but even now, it was hard to focus.

His tongue probed into your mouth and his hands gripped your hips, attempting to pull you tighter into him. Without thinking, you put a hand on his chest, making him growl in frustration.

“What is it?” He demanded.

“Ivar, I haven’t – I don’t – I do not usually -” You sputtered uselessly, trying to avoid his eye. The more you were to look at his face, the more doomed you were bound to be. Even now in your state, he was forever tempting. But you couldn’t help the _insecurity_ that wouldn’t ease in your mind.

Ivar sucked in his bottom lip, letting his teeth rake over it as it slid from his mouth. “I must have you, y/n.” He said softly. You scoffed at the sentiment, rolling your eyes. Ivar really knew how to _woo_ a woman. He moved underneath you, reaching into his breeches and to your disturbance, withdrew and unsheathed a knife. Your heart skipped a beat, eyes widened at the sight of it, glinting in the firelight.

“Ivar – what in Gods -”

He shushed you, went to run his knuckles over the side of your cheek and you shied away from his leather braces.

“I will not hurt you.” Ivar promised. It was hardly reassuring.

The hand containing the blade crept up your thigh. Disappeared under your skirt. He kept eye contact with you and you waited with bated breath, anticipating pain. His free hand joined the other, took hold of the linen over your hip and there was a soft tearing sound as he sliced it apart. He repeated the same on the other hip, then groped your backside to get a handle of it. You gasped as he pulled it out from between your legs, tossed it aside, flinching when you heard it land on the floor.

“Ivar.” Was all you could say – astounded. It was an instant relief but now, you were naked over him – nothing to stop the flow and if he was to keep you on his lap like this… _Gods_ , his _breeches_ …

He only seemed pleased with himself, tilted his head as he smirked.

“What you said earlier…”

“Don’t tell me it has upset you,” you groaned. If you were to be put in this humiliating position just because of a gripe – well, you’d be tempted to pull his hair out.

“No,” he said with a laugh. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning close to your face, a sentiment so sincere that you were struck aback by his next words. “But it does make me think I need to reclaim dominion over you.”

“ _Ivar_.” You repeated.

Suddenly his hands had reached for your dress, clasping right above your breasts to tug you against him. His smile gone, though it lingered in his eyes. “Enjoy your scolding for now. For I will have you screaming my name momentarily.”

Your jaw fell slack. Voice fell mute. His eyes shined at the reaction.

“Turn over,” he next instructed.

“What?”

Ivar’s fingers clenched around your chin and he sneered at you, “Tell me, does moonblood make you deaf as well?”

The remark left you flustered and sent a chill up your spine. You couldn’t help but get excited at his tone, a throb unlike that of your cramps resided between your legs.

He released your chin with a slight push, “Do as I say.”

The longer you refused him, the more frustrated he would get. So, you broke your resolve, rising on your knees so you could readjust. You had to turn your mind off to bid his words; your limbs were stiff as you turned over. Even on an average day, it would have been difficult to situate yourself like this in front of him.

Your rear loomed in front of his face. His legs were spread enough that you could situate your hands between them.

Breath shuddered through your lungs, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

Behind you, Ivar gave a thoughtful hum. He gathered your skirt in his hands and slid it up the back of your thighs, hiking it up far enough till it draped around your waist. He hissed at the sight of you, making you worry again till he smacked his fingers on your ass.

“Bend over.”

You didn’t want to move, simply arched your back until he sat up, dug the heel of his palm into it, applying pressure. “ _Bend_ , y/n.”

Your eyes clenched shut. With reluctance, you replaced your hands with your elbows, leaning farther down until you were perfectly exposed in front of him.

Ivar groaned loudly. You could hear the sound of hands moving on fabric. He wasn’t touching you, so you pictured him touching himself. The image helped you relax a little.

“That’s it…” he murmured.

The next moment had his hand on your thigh; he slowly danced up the length of it, sometimes running in circles until reaching the swell of your ass. There was a sudden shock when he slapped you, making you wince and whimper. A buckle had connected with the sensitive flesh.

“Your braces, Ivar.”

For once, he didn’t seem to mind the break in concentration. He retreated and you heard him fumbling with the brace, then the clatter of it on the floor, having fallen from his hand. The next instant, both his hands were on you, fingers digging into your hipbones to pull you closer to him.

“Do you find it easy to sass me now, y/n?” Ivar drawled. It took biting the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping at him. But silence wasn’t the answer he looked for either – he slapped you again. Harder than before, making you squeal.

“No, Ivar,” you added in haste. Satisfactory to him, as he decided to rub the sting out of your skin with the warm palm of his hand. You sighed, pressed the side of your face to the bed as you felt yourself begin to tremble. Then Ivar’s hand slid through the cleft of your cheeks.

He leaned forward, helped himself to a bite of your flesh. He let his lips roam, taking a more plentiful mouthful at the plumpest part of your cheek, right above where it met your thigh. Your jaw clenched as his sharp teeth dug into you, loosed a moan when his fingers slid between your lips.

It felt better than you thought it would – his fingers on you. The sensitivity and the cramping had been overwhelming for two days now. But Ivar’s fingers brought sweet relief as he began to stroke - easily with the slickness of your moonblood. Back and forth until all of those nerves turned into a sweet ache. Enough so that you soon felt you were gaping for him.

His breathing became all the more rapid, audible now as he stared, transfixed at his doings. His hand – free of the brace – explored as wanted. His fingers were quickly covered in red; the moment he heard you reacting to his touches, his mouth fell open, wanting nothing but to make a mess of it. The soaked digits drew lines over your skin, leaving a warm trail behind. So alluring, he felt his breeches constrict.

Not wanting to stop, Ivar struggled one-handed with his breeches until he was able to free his cock. He moaned at its release, gripped around it to stroke, eyes transfixed on your body. Desiring more, his fingers plunged suddenly inside you. You twitched and gasped, but stayed put, urging him to have his way.

You could feel him move close – close enough that his breath fanned against you. He had hardly dragged his fingers out before leaning in to drag his tongue through your opening.

“Ivar!” You shouted, truly shocked at him.

Ivar was startled out of his trance, this time frowning at the interruption. There was a resounding _smack_ as he spanked you once more. It was lucky your position over him kept you from falling.

“Do not interrupt me again,” he scolded, already moving forward with his actions. With both hands, he grabbed your cheeks, spread them apart in front of his face and smothered his mouth over your opening. It felt like open mouthed kisses, so slick with your wetness that it was like being kissed by velvet. The sting of his slap quickly disappeared. As did your persistent insecurity once his tongue slid from between his lips and nestled into yours. It flicked mercilessly just beneath your clit, an infuriating tease making you cry out.

Ivar groaned, moved his head back and forth to sink further into you till his tongue finally reached the swollen nub. Now, your whole body was shaking; fingers dug into the bedsheets and your jaw locked on itself, desperately trying to keep from screaming out. But it seemed Ivar was far from satiated. The onslaught of his mouth did not weaken, cleansing you with his tongue. An arm wrapped around your thigh, tugged you closer. He tilted his head, closing in on your clit with his mouth. Flicking his tongue, he pulled it inside to suck, and nestled with his jaw to apply pressure.

You could hear him panting against you and it felt hot between your legs. His breathing soon became so labored he had to pull away, gasping for air. The withdrawal was sudden but he could not leave you alone. His fingers took place, sliding two inside, and though he started slow, he steadily increased the pace of pumping them in and out. His fingers curled over a particularly sensitive spot and you reared against him, rocking back until Ivar had to brace you.

“Think of this as _blót_ , y/n,” he murmured. His voice was low and husky. It sounded distant and slurred, as if he were drunk. You were so close to coming that his words barely registered, you merely whimpered in response. Twitched violently when he curled his fingers again, rubbing that same spot until it became unbearable. You sobbed in great succession. It was impossible to stay still now; you could only resist grabbing onto one of his legs.

“What you give to me now is sacred.” At that, his fingers sped up unbearably fast. You fell apart. Crumbled over him as you came, screeching so loud you bit onto your fist to muffle the sound. Ivar quickly removed his hand, leaned forward in a rush to catch whatever else he could with his mouth. Holding you still by the hips, he laved at you until you quieted down.

He sat back when he was done. Licked his blood-soaked lips as he began to stroke himself again, admiring his work.

“Take off your dress.”

You were not hesitant this time. Shaking as you were, you rose to your knees and pulled the garment over your head. It hadn’t even made it to the floor and Ivar was already on you, pulling you back against his torso. In a daze, you smiled, feeling him hard, nestled behind you. Ivar’s lips were slimy on your shoulder. He planted kisses till reaching your neck, took a sharp nip of your ear.

“Are you to be my God, now, Ivar?” You teased, voice whimsy, swooning at the feel of his chest rumble with laughter.

You wondered what he was doing as he adjusted beneath you. A hand rose over your stomach, leaving more trails of dark crimson in its wake until reaching your breast on the opposite side. He cupped it and squeezed. The other hand moved over your thigh, clenched the inside of it. You were locked in now. He lifted you slightly, moving you over his hips until yours lined up perfectly above them. You nearly expressed the impressiveness of his strength when he lowered you onto him. His cock sunk inside, forcing you to stretch around him until he had nowhere else to go, filling you.

Your eyes rolled, wincing at the adjustment. You were always sore and sensitive during these times. His thick cock only contributed to it.

Ivar’s lips returned to your neck, fluttering over your skin, giving you chills as he spoke.

“If you want me to be.”

You keened at his reply, throwing your head back atop his shoulder. Ivar moved his hips, languidly drew himself out and thrust in again as he started a rhythm. His hands were never still over your body. He touched anywhere he could, only seemed encouraged when he was able to paint your flesh with your moonblood.

He grabbed your neck, forcing you to look at him – something you had previously been unable to do, and you shook at the sight of him. His eyes were heavy lidded, glazed over and darkened by his outstretched pupils. His mouth was entirely covered in red. It was smeared from nose to chin. Spread amongst his cheeks, already flushed with the heat he felt. He truly looked like a beast after feasting upon his prey.

“Do you wish to deny me?” Ivar asked.

This was unlike any other time you had been with Ivar. You felt as if your chest was crushing under the weight of his stare, only able to move as he drove himself inside you once more. Your mouth hung open but no noise came out. His lips pulled your attention again as he smiled devilishly.

“To not wish me prosperity and _friðar_?”

If you had the strength, you would’ve laughed, but all you could do was grin. You ran a hand up the back of his neck, eyes slid closed when he kissed you. It was slow as your lips meshed together, but a wet mess all the same. You opened your mouth, oddly curious to taste him and his tongue immediately searched for yours. He tasted of copper… of salt and… something else you could not quite place. Your brows furrowed, searching for it, but Ivar’s pace soon had you lost to it, snapping hips so hard against yours that it tore your lips apart.

His blood-soaked hand released your neck, instead crept down your back to push you till you were bent over again. Instantly, his cock pressed deeper inside you and you sobbed from the feel of it, had to hold yourself up with your hands once more. Ivar grunted, leaning back for better leverage. Fingers dug into your hip, hard enough to leave bruises. He could thrust even faster now, all sense of restraint gone.

The cabin echoed with the sounds of his hips smacking into your backside. You shuddered at the force of him, having lost the ability to make a sound. Silent gasps tumbled out of your mouth, teeth clattered with each of Ivar’s thrusts. In short time, it was his voice to fill the room, moaning louder and louder as he sought his own release. As always, you simply reveled in the sounds he made. Better still, you knew you were the only one to ever hear of it.

Suddenly, there was a violent twitch beneath you. Ivar’s nails raked sharply down your back and his moans were strangled in his throat. You nearly toppled over when he let go of you. He unsheathed himself, gripping his cock in his hand and let out a shaky groan, spilling his hot seed all over your lower back.

He jerked himself in his hand, milking every last drop until he was able to relax. You could hear the thump on the headboard as he leaned back.

Once you felt he was settled, you climbed off of him. The muscles in your thighs ached from stretching as you were, but as you lay down next to him, you realized nothing else did. Your cramps had seemed to vanish, even your back seemed looser than before.

Ivar’s mouth hung open as he regained his breath. He pulled off his tunic, revealing a shiny layer of sweat that glittered over his chest. He hoisted himself down the bed so he could lay on his back and at once, you crawled over him. You closed your hands around his neck, ready to kiss him – just then realizing that his bloody face must have matched yours. It mattered not… you were not so timid on it now. Ivar’s eyes met yours and he let you control him for just a moment. You kissed him more thoroughly than before, nipping at his lips until they swelled. Your fingers laced in his hair, tugging his head back so you could force his mouth open, devour him. Tongues dragged along each other’s until you had to pull away, unable to breathe.

You lay beside him again, propping yourself on an elbow to eye him up and down. The mess… Gods, he was filthy. You could not believe your eyes as they fell upon his crotch. To think it all belonged to you… Your heart swelled, seeing this as a way of claiming him.

Your eyes traveled back up his torso, watching his abdomen rise and fall as he regained his breath. By the time your eyes reached his face, Ivar was appraising your own. He smiled slowly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Am I to believe you are feeling better?”

You scoffed and turned over, resting on your back beside him. “Yes, Ivar.” You had to laugh despite yourself. “It appears I am.”

Ivar chuckled, shifting to pet your stomach. Looking down saw your ‘claim’ drying on him. All of this had to be cleaned. It was impossible for him to head home in the morning whilst covered in your blood. You were certain his breeches were stained.

“We need a bath, Ivar.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Why don’t you come in with me?”

“I would like to see you settled first.” You paused combing out your hair to flick water at him. There was no opposition to bathing with Ivar; mostly you just wanted to marvel at him. He was a sight to behold, leaning back on the wall of the tub. He had already dunked his head under the water, and now the droplets trickled beautifully down his chest, sparkling against the firelight. The weakness you held for his hair was worsened as it fell wet and loose, tickling his shoulders. For the moment, the distraction of bathing went unwanted.

Ivar huffed. Since the moment you stepped off your farm, he had been unreasonably whiny – you thought it was safe to presume it was because he was reluctant to bathe in front of you. Upon his next remark, you realized you had been correct.

“Cannot bare to share a bath with a cripple, huh?” He sneered. “Afraid of touching my stupid legs?”

With a glare, you dropped your hands. You struggled not to react. Given the position he held you in earlier, the way he was acting out now because of his own vulnerability was infuriating. But getting angry with him would only exacerbate his attitude.

“Ivar, if you think anything we have done together holds less intimacy than this…” To add point, you sunk your hand into the bath, groping around until you could gently grasp his thigh, all the while staring him in the face. “You are mistaken.”

Ivar’s mouth bobbed like a fish. You couldn’t help but to smirk at the reaction, watching his voice die in his throat as he tried to protest – or argue further, but couldn’t.

“That is the first time I have ever rendered you speechless, I believe.” You released his thigh, instead shifted to remove your clothing. “For that, I will reward you.”

His mouth still hung open, watching as you got undressed and climbed in the bath, made sure there was enough room to sit next to him. The hot water was sweet relief to your body; it gave a slight singe to your skin but you welcomed it. You closed your eyes, cupped a handful of water to rinse over your face. It felt even better then, seeping into your pores. You dipped your head back as well, soaking your hair before resting back.

“What is it, Ivar?” Even with your eyes closed, you could feel his stare.

“No one has ever -” He paused, leaned his head toward yours, lowering his voice to a whisper as if sharing a secret. “No one has ever touched me… there. Like that.”

You turned your head to appraise him. His thigh was so thin, bony enough that a large man’s hand could probably grasp around it entirely. And his skin was smooth like silk on your calloused palm; completely unblemished from a lifetime of overprotection. It wasn’t the first time you had seen his bare legs either, naked as he was now. But none of that was disturbing to you. It was only upsetting that he would suspect you’d ridicule him now, after everything you’d been through with him.

“I do not see what all the fuss is about,” you mused playfully, brushing your sourness aside. He was close enough, you stole a quick kiss from his lips, making him finally smile, albeit a shy one. You pressed another one to his shoulder, lingering long enough on his damp skin that you could taste him on your lips. With a sigh, you sat upright, closing your eyes again.

“Let me wash you.”

“Come again?”

Ivar scoffed. With a grunt, his hands took hold on either side of your hips, pulling you onto his lap. “Sometimes I think you pretend not to hear me, woman.”

You tried to muffle your giggle, settling over him with your legs on the outside of his. The water sloshed over the rim of the tub, with your breasts just barely bobbing through the surface of it. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at Ivar’s sudden change in mood. For a moment, you let yourself imagine that perhaps it was because he had feelings for you, the same way you did for him.

But you ignored your pestering thoughts; you relaxed in his arms, allowing him to run a bar of soap over your body. The exfoliant was rough on your skin but felt good all the same – even better when held by Ivar. His hands were clumsy at first – it went without saying he had never done this before. You could practically hear the look of concentration that must’ve been worn on his face. But it didn’t take much time for him to become deft and smooth, massaging the soap into your back and shoulders before moving downward.

You couldn’t help but twitch, breath hitching in your throat as his hands cleansed over your breasts and down your stomach. It tickled in a way that made you clear your throat. The combination of Ivar’s ministrations and the steam in your lungs was starting to make you feel intoxicated.

“You like this?” Ivar murmured. His lips were right beside your ear, making you think of the way he took you in your bed, and it gave you chills despite the current heat.

Beneath the water, Ivar rubbed the soap into your thighs, making you hunch against his stomach. With one hand gripping the back of your neck, he held you to him, the other still roamed your lower half.

“Tell me,” he spoke again. His hand brushed over your sex – the pitch of your voice was unrecognizable as you groaned.

“Yes, Ivar…”

You could hardly believe it, but your hips started to roll over him. You were certain you couldn’t handle him twice in a row… yet his mouth stayed beneath your ear… began to press wet kisses against your jaw… stroked your thigh, over and over till your eyes rolled back.

“Don’t torment me so,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. It was half meant to tease, but you were serious also. Time and time again, Ivar made you melt at his whim, and it was agonizing.

“Is that what I do?” He retorted. His hand returned between your thighs, the coarseness of the soap brought enough friction to make you twitch over his lap. He rubbed it over the length of you, then there was a resounding _clunk_ on the bottom of the tub as he dropped it. His fingers took place of it, running languid and heavy over your privacy.

“You think me unscathed,” he stated. There was a sudden edge to his voice, almost making him sound angry and it made you tremble. His hand was no help, almost purposely distracting you so he could talk this way. It quickly became a struggle to pay attention to what he was saying. “That you are the only one who is tortured?”

“Ivar -” you started, but he hushed you, then plunged two of his fingers inside of you. You mewled, arching your back against him. He took a handful of your hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you in place as his fingers slid slowly out of you before sinking back in.

“I loathe you for what you do to me.” His voice croaked in your ear; you wanted to turn and look at him, hoping his face was more clear to read than his words. But the way his fingers moved in you was enough to keep you still on his lap. “And yet…”

His thumb brushed over your most sensitive nub while he pumped his fingers inside you. You were still so sensitive, the slightest touch had you whimpering in his hold. You trembled beneath the water, clenching your eyes shut as the pad of his thumb ran circles around your clit.

You grasped onto his forearm as he quickened the pace of his hand. In response, he merely pressed his fingers deeper, harder, until your soft cries filled the room. His name left your lips amidst a gang of curses and just as you were rounding on your climax –

Ivar stopped.

Without a word, he groped around the tub till reclaiming the bar of soap. Upon doing so, he set his attentions back to bathing you.

You were sat in shock, sputtering in an attempt to throw insults at him. “You wicked _bastard_!” Was all you could spit out. Ivar chuckled behind you, now you could downright _hear_ the smirk on his face. It did nothing to assuage the deep throbbing in your crotch, making you twitch now so you had to force yourself to relax.

“That was not nice, Ivar,” you scolded.

He gave your hair a tug and slid his tongue behind your ear. You shivered as he kissed your temple. “I am not nice.”

With a huff, you slumped back against him. Ivar ignored your crossing of arms, instead massaged soap into your scalp. Turned out, the little shit had to be just as good with his fingers when it came to washing your hair, as it did with your nether region. All your stubbornness could not have fought against his soothing ministrations. You were heavy-lidded again by the time he cupped water over your head and rinsed you.

You startled him, suddenly sitting upright. You turned over his legs to face him, intent on giving him the same treatment.

“Let me,” you said, holding out your hand. Ivar’s facial expression wasn’t as readable as you had hoped, but he did hand over the soap, watching you warily. He leaned back and spread his arms over the edge of the bath, setting the sculpted muscles of his body to be perfectly displayed.

It was a distraction you tried to ignore; you lathered the soap over his chest, kneading your fingers into him as you worked him from shoulder to wrist. Just as he did for you, you washed your way down his torso, around his waist. You shifted away from him to clean each of his legs, to which now Ivar surprisingly gave no protest.

Finding his hips, you continued to rub him down with the soap bar. Even felt so bold to delve between his legs – felt him begin to grow hard against your hand. Ivar’s breath hitched in his throat, and you looked up, only to find him blushing.

You bit back your grin, scooting back over his lap to wash his hair. Damn the Gods, Ivar’s hair would never cease to enthrall you – so soft and thick, your lips parted as your fingers weaved through it. Your attention only wavered when Ivar pressed his mouth to your breast, kissed your nipple.

“Cheeky,” you whispered, inciting a sharp bite. You hissed, withdrawing your hands to shove his chest. He looked up at you with doe eyes and you sighed. You had to get out of this bath or you would be in it all night.

 

 

There was a resounding silence as you dried off and fastened a robe around you. Ivar sat on the edge of the tub, hesitant to move any further. You understood; you were unsure of how he normally went about this sort of thing, but it must have been a struggle regardless. After several minutes, you approached him; he would freeze to death if he remained so stubborn.

“Come here,” you said, crouching only the slightest bit to reach his level.

“You don’t have to help me,” he said softly, not looking at you.

“I know.” You let your hand reach his arm and he finally met your eye. You offered a reassuring smile. “It is nothing. I am stronger than I look, I think you know.”

Ivar scoffed but the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly, and begrudgingly, he drew his arm across your shoulders.

With combined effort, you came to stand with Ivar; he was heavier than he appeared, but being used to lugging around livestock, you didn’t falter. He held onto you as he worked his legs out of the tub and together, you moseyed over to the nearest table, where you already had towels and his clothes set out to dry him off.

You secured a towel around him and let him perch on the edge of it. A mixture of emotion was flashing through his eyes, yet he didn’t seem so shameful now. You had fully intended on retreating to get dressed but his hands clasped around your neck, steadying you in front of him. Slowly, he pulled you to him, staring down at you with such fierceness, your knees nearly buckled. He let his lips hover over yours, just barely darting his tongue out before smothering you in a heated kiss.

With opened mouths, you consumed each other, teetering back and forth over the edge of the table. You draped your arms around his shoulders. Stood on the tips of your toes to press all your body weight against him. You then realized this was a first for you and Ivar, kissing while standing, even if he had the support of something. You’d never had to stretch to reach his full height before. It made your stomach flutter and you wondered if he had been thinking the same.

It was impossible to tell – for he tilted his head to the side, pried your mouth open with his to deepen the kiss. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, raked his teeth down the sides of it before chomping down on your lip. You squealed, granting his tongue access to slide along yours. He was consuming you – you hardly noticed when he released your neck to pull your robe apart.

He cupped your breasts in his palms, squeezed, and traced his thumbs over your nipples. You let out a frustrated groan; already having been teased enough by him, you snagged a handful of his hair, pulling him back.

There was an amused smile on Ivar’s face as he peered under his lashes at you. “Let me finish.”

You nodded, inching ever closer to him. His erection prodded into your belly as he hunched slightly, reaching down to slide his hand between your legs. He took up almost exactly where he left off, your want of him never having wavered. The pads of his fingers slid back and forth between your lips and you gasped when he bent his wrist, entered you with his digits yet another time that night, sheathing them up to his knuckles.

It was even harder to keep your balance now, you clutched onto his shoulders to keep you upright.

“Touch me,” he said suddenly.

You did as told, firmly wrapping your fingers around his cock. Ivar twitched and groaned, setting his forehead on yours.

“I want to feel you come when I do.”

“Yes, Ivar,” you breathed, and without hesitation you began stroke him, firmly fastened in your grip.

He nudged your head back so he could kiss you again; it was more breathing into each other’s mouths than anything, trying to match each other’s pace – Ivar fucking you with his fingers and you, stroking and tugging till he started to ooze at the tip. You merely used it to moisten your grip, ran your palm over his head, causing him to shudder before you.

His fervor increased; he dragged his fingers out of you to dance over your clit in quick succession. Hips bucked over his hand as you cried out, squeezed tighter around his cock in reaction. Then Ivar was hitching. It went like this back and forth – almost causing your own demise as you sought harder and harder to get each other off.

There was no chance you would last much longer so you adjusted your hold on him, gripped around the head of him, strictly tugging his most sensitive part between your palm and fingers.

“ _Y/n_ ,” he moaned darkly. His elbow hooked around the back of your neck, locking you in. The entire length of his arm flexed as he pumped his fingers in and out of you even faster, each thrust making you cry out.

“Ivar – I’m going to -”

“Come for me,” Ivar interrupted. It was hardly a push you needed, but the husky command was enough to bring it on quicker. Your hand practically welded into his cock as you came, knees falling so weak you almost sunk to the ground if it hadn’t been for Ivar’s arm around you. You shuddered, hips bucking as Ivar followed almost simultaneously. His teeth bared as his seed shot out of him, soaked your fist and dribbled down the back of your hand.

The both of you were left gasping for air, clutching each other’s bodies, now slick with a thin sheen of sweat.

There was a mutual whimper when you released him, and he pulled his fingers from you. You looked up to meet Ivar’s dark eyes. He raised his hand to his mouth, again it was covered in your red slickness. Holding your gaze, he sucked each finger clean… licked his lips to savor the taste.

There was no option but to follow suit, lifting your own hand to appraise it. Ivar’s warm seed was down to your wrist now. You flattened your tongue on your skin and dragged it over the length of your hand, suckled over each digit until there was nothing left but your saliva.

You had hardly finished when Ivar was pulling you in again, instantly opening his mouth against yours. You tasted yourselves on each other’s tongues, yet another instance to make you feel weak.

It was luck no one happened to enter the bath house, for you stayed entwined for quite some time until you were both willing to get dressed and endure the trek outside to retreat back to your farm.

 

 

Back in your cabin, you could hardly fathom – as cold as it had been – wanting to disrobe now. But Ivar was always so warm and it was becoming an incessant need to feel his skin on yours. Under the blanket, you pulled off your gown, let it fall to the floor. Ivar followed suit, stripping until he was naked once more and settled in the bed beside you, nestling under your furs.

Your limbs tangled until you were both comfortable, your head rested on his chest, and settling with his heartbeat, you felt yourself immediately begin to drift off.

“Last night, I dreamed you fed me blood pudding,” Ivar said quietly.

In your stupor, you were calm to react. You knew what that had meant – all your life, you discovered it was something all devout women wanted to hear from their lovers. Perhaps, if you’d been more alert, you would have been as excitable as them. Instead, your mind cleared as it drifted into slumber.

_I love you._

 

 

The next morning you woke to a banging on your door. It was uncertain to tell who had been there and for how long, but by the time you shot up in bed, Ivar was already sitting alert and upright, staring at it with menace in his eyes.

“Who is it?” You asked him, repeatedly attempting to blink through your tiredness.

“Ivar, are you in there?” the voice eventually called. You both relaxed – Ubbe.

Ivar was still naked - there was no chance in Hel he would arise to let him in. Ubbe pounded on the door once more and with a groan, you climbed over Ivar and off the bed. You wrapped a clean sheet around your body and crossed the room to grant him entrance.

Ubbe cleared his throat, seeing you in such a state. “Good morning, Ubbe,” you tried to placate.

“Sorry… we have not seen our little brother. I assumed…?” He trailed as you opened the door further, and gestured to your bed where Ivar still sat. It was pure luck that you had changed your sheets before retiring to bed last night.

Ubbe looked back and forth between the two of you, as if nervous to say the obvious.

“Come in.”

He shuffled in and you shut the cold out behind him. He approached Ivar with a raspy chuckle, ruffled his hand through his hair. Ivar scowled.

You left them room to talk, opting to get dressed instead. The soreness of your body was impeccable, and even your cramps had returned. A sullen reality sinking in, after last night’s pleasant haze.

By the time you returned, Ubbe was bowing at you, taking his leave. “Excuse my intrusion,” he said, still smirking all the same, “I will see you later at the feast.”

“The feast?” You asked Ivar, unsure of what Ubbe had meant.

Ivar was in the middle of dressing himself, had his pants back on and held his hand out for you to give him his tunic.

“Yes,” he said excitedly, “There is an announcement to make.”

You wondered what it could have possibly been, but knew better than to ask. In the meantime, Ivar finished dressing and clambered off your bed. You did not want him to leave, but there was nothing you could think of to say to make him stay. Already, by the time he was halfway out the door, you felt a pang of sadness in your chest.

He stopped to turn and look at you over his shoulder, “Perhaps then… you can tell me more about how much you love me.”

Your jaw dropped and he smirked at you, crawled the rest of the way out and the door slammed behind him.

You could have sworn on the Gods you were dreaming when you made the proclamation.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all you lovelies, your support is incredible and makes me thrive! Hope you enjoyed this one Xx
> 
> In the next installment, it's goin downn


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